


this mess we're in

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mages, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Grantaire messes up a potion, it turns out that he can't leave Enjolras' apartment. And that's not even the worst of his problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this mess we're in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [herman_the_moth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/herman_the_moth/gifts).



> Written for the giveaway I did on my [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/).
> 
> [caroll-in](http://caroll-in.tumblr.com/) asked for a modern magic AU in which Grantaire gets stuck in Enjolras' apartment and disappears entirely except for his voice.

“Why don’t you come up with a useful idea for once,” Grantaire muttered in his best pissed-off-Enjolras voice. He picked up a handful of dried herbs and tossed them into the pot that Jehan had put on the stove earlier – just to try something out, he’d said. As far as Grantaire could tell it was just soup at the moment.

The others were still in the living room. Well, some of them. Grantaire had meant to leave too after their meeting had come to an early end, but then he’d seen Jehan’s concoction bubbling on the stove. He’d simply been curious. Jehan often came up with new spells and new potions, but this very obviously wasn’t going anywhere.

Grantaire had always been better at spells than at potions, but throwing random herbs into bubbling water was strangely therapeutic.

He hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place, but Joly and Bossuet had convinced him to come along. Grantaire wasn’t even sure why they’d had a meeting today anyway. They usually met in the Musain’s backroom, but there was some other party there today, so Enjolras had insisted they relocate for this meeting. They’d hardly talked about any points on the agenda, though.

They’d meant to start a campaign for young mages, to give them a chance to get access to spell books and potion supplies. Grantaire had to admit that it wasn’t a terrible idea, generally speaking, but people were still wary of their kind and parents just wouldn’t send their kids over to learn how to do magic – which was what Grantaire had also told Enjolras, who obviously hadn’t been pleased.

Enjolras liked to think that they were widely accepted now, that people were starting to realize that they were only trying to help, but only very few mages practiced openly even now. It wasn’t quite safe and they all knew that; there was absolutely no point in pretending that everything was just peachy.

They couldn’t just expect everyone to trust them not to fuck shit up on a daily basis – especially because there were more than enough mages who actually did fuck shit up on a daily basis. It was all a bit of a mess these days.

Grantaire barely registered when Combeferre and Courfeyrac said goodbye to Enjolras out in the hallway. He knew he should leave soon as well, but first he wanted to try this disaster of a soup. Just out of curiosity.

He knew he’d made a huge mistake the second he tasted it.

Not because it was terrible, well, that too, but his toes started to prickle and then his fingertips did too. It only took a moment until he could feel it all over his body. Jehan must have said a spell over this.  So it wasn’t exactly soup now, was it? Grantaire felt dizzy for a moment and he screwed his eyes shut, letting out a sigh of relief when everything was back to normal only a second later.

Grantaire blinked in confusion. He looked down and stared right at Enjolras’ tiled kitchen floor. Grantaire’s feet, his legs, his entire body, it was all gone. “Oh shit,” Grantaire whispered.

His first thought then obviously was that Enjolras could never know about this. If he found out that Grantaire had turned himself invisible in his apartment, Enjolras would never let him hear the end of it. He just needed to destroy the evidence, then he could go to Jehan’s or maybe Joly’s and one of them could surely help him out and turn him back to normal.

Except when Grantaire reached for the pot, his hands went right through it. Not just invisible then. Grantaire looked around and where he should have been able to see his reflection in the windowpane, there was absolutely nothing. The kitchen was empty, although Grantaire was most definitely still here. He took a step towards the door, and that worked, but his feet made no sound at all. It felt a little like he was floating.

He _so_ needed to get out of here.

Well, looked like he’d need to leave the pot there. And Enjolras would definitely be smart enough not to try whatever was in it, so at least Grantaire didn’t have to worry about that. Grantaire left the kitchen, silently, unnoticed by Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who were all standing by the door. And it looked like it was Grantaire’s lucky day, because the door was already open.

“Promise you’ll talk to Grantaire,” Combeferre was saying to Enjolras. “He does make some valid points.”

Enjolras huffed, arms folded over his chest. “He might, but does he have to be so obnoxious about it?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes at him and then squeezed past Courfeyrac. Then he stopped. Tried again to take the next step but couldn’t. Grantaire willed himself not to curse loudly and took a step back. He needed a plan; preferably one that left Enjolras completely out of the picture. The problems was that he was very obviously stuck in Enjolras’ apartment and he couldn’t touch anything, including himself, so he couldn’t call or text anyone, especially not with his own phone that should still be in his pocket. It was mightily inconvenient that his pocket and with it also his phone seemed to have vanished.

So he probably needed to ask Enjolras for help. Grantaire really didn’t see any way around it and maybe he should say something while Combeferre and Courfeyrac were still here, but this was embarrassing enough already and he wasn’t in the mood for Enjolras yelling at him in front of other people. So Grantaire waited until Combeferre and Courfeyrac were out the door.

Enjolras eventually closed the door with a quiet sigh, jumping when Grantaire cleared his throat. Well, he could definitely hear him, so that was something. Enjolras frowned into the vague direction of where Grantaire was standing or floating or whatever he was doing.

“It seems that I got myself into a bit of a mess,” Grantaire said.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras looked around, brow furrowed. “Are you hiding?”

“No, I’m here.” Grantaire waved, or at least he thought that he was waving, it was hard to tell, really. And Enjolras obviously couldn’t see him. “I’m...”

“Invisible?” Enjolras asked and reached out. “What did you do?”

“Not quite, actually. I’m just... gone.”

“Gone?” Enjolras echoed. “But you’re talking to me and you can hear me so your ears must be there. Can you see me?”

“I can see you just fine. I can’t touch anything, though. And I also can’t leave your apartment. I tried, but...” Grantaire shrugged, forgetting once again that Enjolras couldn’t see him. “Jehan was brewing something in the kitchen and I thought he hadn’t said a spell or anything, I thought it was just soup.”

“So you tried it?” Enjolras asked, voice now verging on exasperation. “I can’t believe this kind of stuff keeps happening, seriously, you should know better.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Anyway, I’ll ask Jehan what’s in the potion, it shouldn’t be too hard to reverse.”

“I might have added something to it,” Grantaire muttered. It was better to mention it right now, even though Enjolras was starting to look increasingly annoyed. “Anyway, I don’t think I could drink any potion. I can’t even touch anything.”

“Fantastic,” Enjolras said, nodding slowly. He waved his hand in Grantaire’s general direction. “But it’s okay, we’ll figure this out, I promise. Just... stay calm.”

“I am calm.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Enjolras muttered. He most definitely didn’t look calm. Well, Grantaire probably wouldn’t be calm either if the voice of a guy he didn’t like all that much was floating around in his apartment.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Grantaire said. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty or tired; it felt like he was in some sort of vacuum. Anyway, this wasn’t the first time a spell had gone wrong for one of them – there had been hair on fire and floating cats and TVs that only showed the first episode of _Friends_. Grantaire had walked around with purple hair for nearly a week after one of his potions had exploded on him. And they’d fixed all of that and Enjolras would certainly be able to fix this.

Grantaire trusted Enjolras with this, of course he did, it wasn’t like Enjolras was _entirely_ misguided. The problem was that Enjolras probably would have preferred if Grantaire had vanished completely and wasn’t bothering him with this shit in his own apartment. But it wasn’t like Grantaire could go anywhere else, so this was his only option.

“Right, okay...” Enjolras still looked vaguely freaked out and Grantaire actually felt a little bad about it. “I’ll take a look at a couple of books and if I don’t find anything I’ll just call Combeferre.”

“You might want to turn off the stove as well.”

Enjolras nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, calling, “Just wait for me in the living room.”

Grantaire did just that, silently stepped into Enjolras’ living room that was still mildly chaotic from their meeting earlier. Enjolras’ cat Hester was fast asleep on the couch. Grantaire sat down next to her, but she didn’t notice, the couch never ever shook.

A cup of coffee in hand, Enjolras came marching into the living room, freezing in the doorway. “Are you still here?”

“Yeah, I’m over here,” Grantaire said. “On the couch,” he added, because Enjolras probably couldn’t quite tell. “Enjolras... I’m sorry. Really. I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Oh, so you didn’t mean to turn yourself into a... ghost of sorts,” Enjolras said as he started pulling books off his shelf. “I’m glad you told me because I was just starting to think that you just did this for the sole purpose of pissing me off.”

“I am sorry.”

“So you said.” Enjolras dumped his books on the coffee table and sat down in his arm chair. “I suppose you can’t help if you can’t touch anything.”

“Maybe you should call Jehan,” Grantaire suggested. That was where he’d wanted to go in the first place. Jehan was good at fucking spells up, but undoubtedly also the best at fixing whatever had gone wrong. Most of the time it took less than an hour.

Grantaire was sincerely hoping that this would take less than an hour as well. He wanted to go home and sleep and _not be stuck in Enjolras’ apartment_.

Instead Grantaire listened as Enjolras called Jehan and explained what was going on, although it was obviously quite hard to do so, since nobody knew what exactly had happened to Grantaire. As it turned out Jehan had really tried to make a potion that turned things not invisible but see-through and whatever Grantaire had added had apparently given the potion some _special features_.

“Jehan says that there’s a pretty good reversal spell that has fixed all kinds of stuff for him, he said he’d tried to find it, but it might not be so easy to reverse the effects of a potion with a spell.”

“Great,” Grantaire muttered. The thought of being stuck here forever crept up on him. Maybe he’d just be some sort of poltergeist for the end of eternity, although he couldn’t even move stuff around, so he’d make a pretty pathetic one.  

“You know what would actually be great? If you could remember what exactly you put into that potion.”

“I told you, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Hasn’t anyone taught you that it’s always a bad idea to just throw things into a pot?”

“Spare me,” Grantaire grumbled. “Not everyone has been brought up in a house full of mages.”

Enjolras only scoffed at the mention of his family. He picked up one of the books. “Let’s fix this mess we’re in so you can get out of here.”

“I can’t wait.” Grantaire moved over to Enjolras, so he could peer over his shoulder. The book that Enjolras was flicking through was old and handwritten, maybe it had been passed down to him, maybe he’d found it at Jehan’s shop. Grantaire didn’t ask, he had a feeling that Enjolras would likely flip his shit if he opened his mouth.

Enjolras turned to a section about spell reversals, sighing quietly as he began reading. He seemed to come to the same conclusion as Grantaire – nothing on that page sounded even remotely helpful. Neither did anything on the next one. Or the one after that.

“Still here?” Enjolras asked quietly as he carefully closed the book.

“Yep,” Grantaire said. “I know, we would have both preferred if I were gone.”

“Don’t worry, okay? We’ll figure this out,” Enjolras said and Grantaire thought that he might have tried to sound reassuring.

Fifteen minutes later Enjolras’ phone chimed with a message from Jehan, who’d taken a photo of that spell that they thought might help. Enjolras tried to cast it three times and three times it did absolutely nothing. Grantaire was sure that it had nothing at all to do with Enjolras’ abilities, this just meant that he’d fucked up big time and that this issue was pretty complex, to put it mildly. But, as Combeferre always said, nothing was unfixable. Or that was what Grantaire had to keep telling himself.

Grantaire eventually sat down on the armrest of the chair that Enjolras was sitting in, trying to spot anything remotely helpful. Enjolras often was quick to turn the page – he knew the books, the spells in them. Sometimes he’d linger on a page, but most of the time he just sighed and moved on.

Enjolras’ phone chimed again a few more times and eventually Enjolras cleared his throat. “Jehan is sending Combeferre over to take a look at the potion,” he said and looked over at Grantaire. “You’re still there, right?”

“Still here, yeah,” Grantaire said. He was a little surprised that Enjolras had figured out where he was sitting. Or maybe he’d just guessed.

Enjolras spent the twenty minutes it took Combeferre to arrive pacing about the living room while Grantaire sat back down on the couch. He tried to scratch Hester behind the ears, but it didn’t work, tried to pick up one of the cups on the coffee table, but he couldn’t. “How can I sit on the couch but not touch anything?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t really look like you’re actually sitting there,” Enjolras said. He stopped pacing. “How is your voice still there but the rest of you is gone?”

“Okay, this is just getting weird, how do you know where I am?”

“You said something about sitting on the couch,” Enjolras said with a shrug. He wound a curl that had come loose of his ponytail around his finger, still staring at Grantaire – or at the empty space on his couch where Grantaire’s voice was coming from. “Are you–”

Enjolras was interrupted by the doorbell and he rushed off to open the door for Combeferre, who stepped into the living room a moment later. “Grantaire,” he said, sounding vaguely amused.

“Over here,” Grantaire said. “And I’m sorry.”

“Please, it’s not like this is the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened,” Combeferre said.

Grantaire had a feeling that Combeferre had had quite a few mishaps of his own that he’d never told any of them about. “The potion is in the kitchen.”

“Yes, I’ll take some of that for Jehan.” Combeferre tilted his head, his eyes narrowed. “You’re really gone, aren’t you? Because Jehan said the potion was for making things see-through, but... you’re certainly not just see-through.”

“That’s because he added some things to the potion,” Enjolras said dryly.

“I thought it was soup. It even smelled like soup. Don’t potions usually turn a really weird color when they’re done?”

“Usually, yes,” Combeferre said. “Sometimes they don’t.”

“Maybe you should have asked that kind of question _before_ you decided to–”

“Enjolras...” Combeferre gave Enjolras a nudge. “That’s not helping.”

“Well, forgive me for not being elated about have a snarky ghost in my apartment. And he can’t even leave, he has to stay here until we work this out.”

“Which we will. I’m going to Jehan’s after we’re done here.”

“Do you want any help?” Enjolras asked.

Combeferre shook his head. “Someone should stay with Grantaire, just in case.”

Grantaire couldn’t even pretend that he was shocked that Enjolras wanted to get away from him so badly. “Just in case?”

“In case it gets worse,” Combeferre said, sounding way too calm. Like he hadn’t just suggested that Grantaire might vanish from existence entirely. “But you’re feeling fine, right?”

“Yeah, I feel fine,” Grantaire mumbled.

“Don’t worry,” Combeferre said, smiling faintly. “It won’t take us too long to fix this.” When Combeferre said it, Grantaire actually believed it. He could probably say anything and Grantaire would believe him without batting an eye. “It’s a shame that you can’t remember what you put into that potion,” Combeferre went on, “it’s a really neat trick.”

“Nothing about this is _neat_ ,” Grantaire grumbled.

“It’s really fascinating, though.” Combeferre looked like he was enjoying himself way too much. “I mean, what are the chances that you put something into that potion, several things, actually, and you don’t completely ruin it, you just change it. It’s practically impossible if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Great, so what you’re saying is that if I’d added one more thing or if I’d left one thing out, I might have ruined the potion and nothing would have happened?”

Combeferre smiled. “Exactly. It’s a bit of a miracle, really.”

Grantaire really could have done without this _miracle_ in his life. “Please don’t look so excited,” he said. Not that he wasn’t glad that Combeferre wasn’t as annoyed as Enjolras obviously was. Enjolras was just standing there, arms crossed, looking annoyed and like he wanted to murder someone. And Grantaire had a pretty good idea who Enjolras was thinking about murdering.

“Don’t think I’m not taking this seriously,” Combeferre said, “I just find this issue rather intriguing. But don’t worry, Jehan is already digging through his books, it’s just a matter of time until we find a good reversal spell. There are tons, but some of them are a little too specific for our purposes.”

Grantaire would have almost preferred if Combeferre had stayed with them, because he had a feeling that Enjolras might soon get creative in terms of finding a way to kill him. Combeferre took some of the potion and bid them a good night. Grantaire had his doubts that the night would actually be a good one.

Enjolras got himself some more coffee and then went back to quietly leafing through books. Grantaire did his best to keep up, trying not to feel too guilty about all of this. It wasn’t that easy when Enjolras kept huffing angrily.

When he’d made it through the last book he’d pulled off his shelf, Enjolras groaned. “I can’t believe that there’s nothing in there.” He rubbed his eyes. “Maybe I should just google it.”

“Really, you think you’ll find something on Google?” Grantaire snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Well, what do you suggest? Do you want me to stop looking, is that it? Would you rather wallow in self-pity?” Enjolras glared at him and once again his aim was scarily accurate. “I can just go to bed and you can stay here for the rest of your life if you think I’m wasting my time with this. You know, I’m trying to help you, I’m trying to get you out of this mess that you got yourself into.”

As if Enjolras was doing this for Grantaire. The main reason for him being so eager, Grantaire was sure, was that Enjolras didn’t want him around. Grantaire sighed. “Thank you ever so much.”

Enjolras scoffed. “Fine then, be like that.” He stood up and stomped out of the living room, door slamming shut behind him.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. He looked down at Hester, who was still asleep. “How can you stand living with him?”

Hester’s tail twitched but other than that she didn’t have an answer for Grantaire. He wasn’t quite sure what to do right now. Enjolras was gone and he probably wasn’t going to come back. Grantaire had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in this state; he couldn’t even turn off the lights.

So he just sat there on the couch, looking around Enjolras’ living room. He wasn’t here for the first time – Combeferre had once asked him to bring some stuff over and Enjolras had invited him over for a few movie nights with their friends. Although Grantaire wasn’t quite sure if Enjolras had done so voluntarily. Chances were that Courfeyrac had talked him into inviting _everyone_ , including Grantaire. Anyway, Grantaire had already seen the pictures and the books and the eight-month-old Christmas cards that Enjolras didn’t seem to want to take down.

Grantaire didn’t really want to stare at those Christmas cards all night, though. He was kinda starting to regret that he’d made Enjolras angry. If he hadn’t, Grantaire could have asked him to at least turn on the TV for him, so he wouldn’t just sit here. Or hover half an inch above the couch. Whatever.

Much to Grantaire’s surprise, Enjolras came walking back into the living room a few minutes later, lips pursed, carrying a huge cup of coffee and two more books.

“You’re back,” Grantaire said.

“Yes, smartass, I’m back,” Enjolras muttered and this time he sat down next to Grantaire, feet propped up on the coffee table. He looked over at Grantaire, almost like he’d forgotten that Grantaire wasn’t actually there. His lips twitched. “What, did you think I’d just go to bed and leave you here on your own?”

Grantaire didn’t reply, because that was exactly what he’d thought.

Apparently that was answer enough. “Really? You really...” Enjolras trailed off and picked up a book. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Well, like you said, I got myself into this, it’s not actually your job to get me out of it.”

“You forget the part where you’re stuck in my apartment and I might end up being stuck with your voice whispering to me for the rest of my life. Seriously, you have no idea how creepy it is to talk to someone who isn’t there.”

“Feels a bit like talking to yourself, huh?”

“No, when I talk to myself, I don’t annoy the crap out of myself.” Enjolras hummed, fingers tracing the list of entries in the book. “Actually, I talk to Hester most of the time. And she doesn’t reply at all.”

“Man, maybe we should figure out how to make her talk. I bet she could tell us some really interesting stories.”

Enjolras, for some reason, quickly shook his head. “I highly doubt it.”

“Oh, I bet you tell her stuff like, _Grantaire was super annoying and I threw a handful of peanuts at him today_.”

Enjolras groaned. “I did not throw those on purpose. My hand slipped. And I apologized for that.”

“I know, I’m just fucking with you.” Grantaire laughed. “Or did you actually tell her about it?”

This time it was Enjolras who didn’t reply. He pointed at the book in his lap. “I should... You can help me look for something useful.”

“Sure, yeah,” Grantaire said. He leaned a little closer so he could take a look at the entries in the book, but was quickly distracted by the look of immense concentration on Enjolras’ face. Grantaire had seen it many times, but not up close. He usually wasn’t this close to Enjolras in general. He didn’t like it much, mainly because he actually liked it a lot.

This was really starting to get frustrating. Enjolras seemed to feel the same way because he slammed the book shut with a groan. “This is my fault.”

“Right, you messed with Jehan’s potion and made me disappear,” Grantaire said dryly. “Maybe you should take a nap.”

“No, I mean...” Enjolras slowly traced the gold lettering on the book’s cover. “There’s a reason that you were in my kitchen. Earlier, I didn’t mean to... I was pretty harsh.”

“That doesn’t make it your fault, though.”

“I still feel bad.”

Well, that was a first. “Enjolras, seriously,” Grantaire said, “I’m the one who fucked up.”

Enjolras chewed on his bottom lip, obviously thinking hard. Eventually he just picked up the other book. “Maybe there’s something useful in here.”

He dozed off halfway through the book, head leaning back against the couch, his mouth open. Grantaire would have laughed if it had been anyone else, but he actually just wanted to wrap a blanket around Enjolras and carry him to bed. Except that he couldn’t. Grantaire knew that Enjolras very rarely got a good night’s sleep and this time it was Grantaire’s fault that he didn’t.

Grantaire decided that he’d let him sleep, at least for a little while. Grantaire still didn’t even feel tired. That might be because he hadn’t crawled out of bed until noon, but it was most likely a side effect of the potion. Grantaire busied himself with not staring at Enjolras. In the end, Grantaire just tried to move around random stuff on the table, but it worked about as well as it had a couple of hours ago. He jumped when Enjolras’ phone gave a chime.

Enjolras did as well, jerking into an upright position, looking around in confusion. “Grantaire?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh good, you’re still here.”

Grantaire frowned. “Good?”

“Well, you could have disappeared or...” Enjolras rubbed his eyes. “Why did you let me fall asleep?”

“You seemed to be tired,” Grantaire muttered. “Anyway, I don’t think there’s anything helpful in that book. But I think someone texted you just now.”

“Right...” Enjolras reached for his phone, humming as he read the message. “Joly came over to help them and he found a reference for a spell that might help us. Jehan is trying to find the right book. Apparently he has it in the store somewhere.”

“Oh man,” Grantaire said. “That’s going to take a while, then.”

Enjolras snorted. They’d both been to Jehan’s store, they knew that the books were everywhere. And there was no system at all. The potion supplies were neatly organized, because that was what he was selling primarily, but if you actually took a look around you’d find all kinds of curious things like talismans and crystals. Grantaire’s favorite shelf was the one with the allegedly cursed objects.

“Well,” Grantaire went on, “tell them to get some rest. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. You should go to bed, too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not going to leave you here on your own.”

“Just turn on the TV, I’ll be fine watching shitty movies. And maybe I can have a chat with Hester when she wakes up.”

“Or you could have a chat with me.”

“Right, because you want to have a chat with me.”

Enjolras shrugged and leaned back. “Why not?”

“Remember when you said that you’d prefer if I didn’t open my mouth during meetings?”

“Yes, during meetings,” Enjolras said. “And only if you don’t have anything productive to add. You’re welcome to make helpful comments whenever you want.”

“Please, my comments are always helpful. They’re just not what you want to hear. Because telling you there’s some free pizza event on campus and that no one will show up at a protest because of it is totally helpful.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “People did turn up for that protest.”

“Yeah, like ten people if you don’t count our group.”

“Why do you always have to be so negative? It’s so...” Enjolras trailed off with a sigh. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

“Sure, any suggestions?” Grantaire asked. “Maybe golden retriever puppies? Do you even like puppies?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Enjolras smiled. “I had a puppy once. My mum bought him for me but then she realized that having a dog is actually a lot of work and I was six, so I couldn’t really do it all by myself.”

“So what happened to him?”

“We gave him away after about a month, but the family who took him didn’t mind that I came by to visit him every now and then,” Enjolras said and nodded at one of the pictures on top of his shelf.

Grantaire knew that picture, mainly because Courfeyrac had the same one pinned to his fridge. There were little Enjolras and Courfeyrac, maybe seven or eight years old, both of them hugging Courfeyrac’s dog. Except that Courfeyrac’s dog had apparently been Enjolras’ dog. “Buzz Lightyear was your dog?” Grantaire laughed. “Does that mean that _you_ named him Buzz Lightyear?”

Enjolras smirked. “Maybe.”

“You were so much more fun when you were six.”

“I’m still fun,” Enjolras said. He sounded vaguely offended. “I just don’t consider hanging out at the Corinthe three nights a week fun.”

“Yeah, you’d rather go to a protest every day.”

Enjolras gave him one of his best you’re-not-funny looks. “It’s really not my fault that you hardly ever spend any time with me and don’t know that I do, in fact, like to do things other than organizing protests.”

“Oh, _of course_ it’s my fault. Because if I showed up here to hang out, you’d totally love that.”

Enjolras made a face, his cheeks turning pink. “Anyway,” he said, persistently looking down at his hands, “how’s work going?”

“Work is fine,” Grantaire said. He worked at an art supplies store and he taught the occasional evening class, but it really wasn’t that exciting. “We got some really nice crayons the other day, it was the highlight of my week. No, I lied, the guy who came in to return oil paints he’d bought like five years ago was the highlight of my week. He still had the receipt.”

Enjolras snorted. “Some people... You know, the other day Courfeyrac took me shopping and there was this elderly lady who wouldn’t believe that her coupon wasn’t valid anymore. It took three sales assistants and the store manager to explain it to her. But I bet that stuff like that happens to you all the time.”

Well, Grantaire did have a bunch of stories to tell and Enjolras didn’t seem to get tired of them either. He did yawn every now and then but that was most likely because it was the middle of the night. Grantaire did try to get him to go to bed one more time around four o’clock, but he refused and got himself another round of coffee and cookies instead. Then he told him how Hester kept him awake at night sometimes – “She always wants to lie down on the bookshelf and then drops the books in the middle of the night” – and somehow they made it past six in the morning, no arguments, no yelling, and then the doorbell rang and Jehan, Joly and Combeferre came tumbling into Enjolras’ flat. They all looked like they hadn’t slept for even just a second.

“You’re both still alive, this is amazing,” Joly said, beaming at where he seemed to assume Grantaire was sitting. He was off by a couple of feet. “Although I guess it would have been hard for Enjolras to kill you in this state.”

“Did you find the book?” Enjolras asked before Grantaire could say anything.

“We did,” Combeferre said and held up the book. “I wish there was some sort of online database for this. It would have been really helpful.”

“Well, we did find it,” Jehan said. “Let’s get this over with, Bahorel is waiting for me. Hopefully in bed, because that’s really the only place I want to go right now. Grantaire, can you come over here? Are you here already? Can you walk right through me?”

“I am not walking through you,” Grantaire muttered.

“Could you try, though, that would be so–”

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Could be please give this a try? I’m not quite sure how much longer I can keep myself awake by sheer force of will.”

In the end, it really wasn’t that big of a deal. They said the spell and Grantaire was back; he could feel the hardwood floor underneath his feet and when he looked down he could see his shoes and his ripped jeans and now he could feel it all again, he was tired and hungry, and it was the best feeling in the entire world.

“You’re back,” Enjolras said and pulled him into a surprisingly tight hug. When Enjolras let go of him, his face was bright red. “Good, this spell worked, that’s...” He nodded at Combeferre. “Good. Thanks for your help.”

“Yeah, thanks guys, really,” Grantaire said and gave Jehan a nudge. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Jehan only yawned in reply.

“Time for bed,” Joly said and gave Grantaire a quick hug. “Glad you’re back, please don’t ever fuck with potions again.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I have to keep saying this to people.”

Grantaire had said the exact same thing to him about half a dozen times, so he only grinned at him. “Thank you.”

Enjolras cleared his throat and turned to Grantaire. “So... breakfast?”

“I think I’ll sleep first,” Combeferre said quickly. Jehan and Joly were quick to agree. “You two have fun and don’t forget to pour out the leftover potion.”

“Are you sure that you want me to stay for breakfast?” Grantaire asked once the others had left again, shuffling out the door like zombies. Joly even made the appropriate groaning noises.

“Yes, of course,” Enjolras said. “You must be hungry.”

“Yeah, and you must be exhausted.” Grantaire wandered into the kitchen when Enjolras only shrugged. “Well, at least let me make breakfast for you. What do you have?”

“I think I have toast, jam...” Enjolras looked a little lost for a moment. “And coffee.”

“Good, let’s start with coffee,” Grantaire said and turned on Enjolras’ coffeemaker. “Thanks, by the way.”

Enjolras leaned against the counter. “I didn’t really do much.”

“You stayed up all night,” Grantaire said.

“It wasn’t that hard, to be honest. You kept me entertained. And it was nice, you know, talking to you and all that. Maybe we should do that again sometime.”

“It was, yeah,” Grantaire mumbled. He just was a little surprised that Enjolras seemed to think so as well. “And, sure, if you want to.”

“Yes, absolutely.” He looked at Grantaire for a moment, then he smiled. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

Grantaire smiled back at him. Maybe this whole potion disaster hadn’t been the worst thing that had ever happened to him after all.


End file.
